


One Pine Needle Short of a Fire

by KousKousx



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, dubcon, non-beta'd, prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:32:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KousKousx/pseuds/KousKousx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends and family regularly compared Dipper’s free will to titanium: thought to be impenetrable, solid and strong, able to withstand even the most sound of arguments if the logic called for it, but under strain, even titanium had its weaknesses. When oxidized just right, titanium worn down and shredded was extremely volatile—flammable even—when met with a hot enough flame.</p>
<p>A series of Bill/Dip prompts I took on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Pine Needle Short of a Fire

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I decided to take a few BillDip prompts on [my tumblr](http://kouskousx.tumblr.com) to challenge myself when it came to the characters and the ship. Please keep in mind they're unbeta'd, so excuse any grammatical mistakes and so forth that I couldn't catch my with own eyes. I want every prompt to be open to constructive criticism (and any other comment, for that matter!) so please feel free to tell me how you feel.
> 
> This is a prompt for a friend of mine [schwifty-rick](http://schwifty-rick.tumblr.com):
> 
> "Human Bill - pretty much the devil in disguise - comes to Dipper after Mabel gets hurt or something, claiming he can help. Similar to a Hades/Megara situation, Dipper feels trapped. SOMETHING ABOUT THAT POWER PLAY WHERE BILL KNOWS HE HAS DIPPER RIGHT WHERE HE WANTS HIM. And he's all suave and smirking and laughing and handsome. Hot and dangerous. (I realize this wasn't much of an ACTUAL prompt or anything lmao. Bear with me darling)."
> 
> Hope you like it dude! <3

After an abundance of time spent in the Mindscape, certain absurdities still managed to take Dipper by surprise, like talking pictures, never ending hallways, and constantly changing rooms. It was not the shift of scenery that was jarring, at least not anymore. It was usually what lurked behind closed doors and beneath the floorboards.

Obsessed with the paranormal, Dipper always had an interest in the more frightening and spooky entities in life, but the creatures that lurked in the Mindscape were far beyond the capacity of Gravity Falls. They were usually abhorrent, with shrieking screams, hundreds of limbs and disjointed facial features. The Mindscape held monsters that craved both the mind and the flesh, to maim, torture and manipulate as they pleased, and no monster was crueler than Bill Cipher, who liked to claim the Mindscape as his own.

Now, Bill Cipher wasn’t hard to look at, at least in the ways that Dipper had seen. Bill claimed that he could take lots of forms, the worst of which Dipper never had the horror to witness, under the claim that the sight of him alone “would melt his brains from out of his ears.”

On the contrary, the usual form that Bill would take was a sight for sore eyes in the constantly grey scenery. He was the flashy type; he wasn’t shy about his preference for the most precious of metals. He dressed in prim, proper suits of only yellows and golds. His cufflinks were always fastened, and his bow was always straight. Bill dressed dapper from the very tip of his top-hat down to the toes of his well polished saddle shoes.

And then there were his looks. As far as demons went, Bill Cipher looked less than extraordinary. Actually, he did not look like a demon at all: he, for the most part, looked human.

His face was perfect—“dangerously good looking” failed to do Bill Cipher justice, because whatever physical features Bill had in mind when crafting his human vessel, it was apparent that all of them were to charm whoever laid eyes on him. With a delicate jawline, perfectly upturned nose, long, curled lashes and a pearly white smile—Bill Cipher’s looks could sell him his deals alone, if his victim was superficial enough.

That was where the humanity ended and the outer-worldly began. When one stared just long enough to let the intuition of “ _this man’s is creepy_ ” really sink into their mind, it didn’t take much to realize that Bill was anything but human. A pearly white smile when opened wide enough flashed well manicured canines. Closer inspection of his arms and legs would make one notice the strangely angular points of his elbows and knees, the lankiness of his appendages.

Then there were his eyes—there were two, like any person, not one less, not one more—but that was as far as the normalities would go. Bill’s eyes were the achilles heel of his disguise, because with their eerie golden glow and pointed pupils, he had a stare that was more beast than man. If anything, the combination of features, how strange they were, added to the captivating aura of Bill Cipher’s guise. Perhaps that’s what made him the most frightening demon after all; with such bewitching looks, all it took was a good pitch to make him disarming to anyone desperate enough to play into his schemes.

That’s what Dipper liked to think as he sat stuck in the Mindscape.

Sure, Dipper thought Bill was attractive; he had two eyes and an affinity for the mysterious and weird, so the haunting, good looks of Bill caught his attention quick enough when he presented himself from out of the shadows of the forest.

But attraction alone hadn’t tethered Dipper to the Mindscape; no, he liked to think he had a stronger will than that. A man, even one as pretty as Bill, could not convince Dipper to sell his soul. No, it was desperation and helplessness, a moment of heartbreak and the fear of losing the most important part of himself that made Dipper pledge himself to Bill Cipher.

Dipper thought back to the day he watched Mabel die and he remembered with bittersweetness how he became a fixture in Bill’s realm. When Mabel fell to the ground, head busted open and bleeding, Dipper wondered if in the upcoming seconds he would feel it too.

With the weird occurrences that were so frequent in the strange city of Gravity Falls, twin telepathy wasn’t farfetched—it was one of those annoying questions Mabel and he encountered on the regular, anyway. People would ask Dipper that if his nose was itchy and he scratched it, if she could feel it. When he watched the bones in Mabel’s legs break, twist and contort into shapes that were all too crippling, Dipper was too numb to feel a thing.

After the Centaur herd passed, they had left Mabel dead in their wake. When trampling her, they managed to separate a sandwich baggy of glitter from her pocket till the contents of it were left exploded. It was one of Dipper’s only memories of the horror before Bill showed up; glitter sticking to the muddy soil, to Mabel’s skin, to the puddles of innards and blood. Tiny pieces of glitter cut into Dipper’s own cuts and bruises as he crawled towards his sister, to take her into his arms and scream.

At first Dipper cried for God and when he got no answer, nothing but the scatter of birds from a clearing, his mind ran to other places. His thoughts did a haphazard 180 as he thought of his parents, his Grunkle Stan, and his friends—they had constantly warned Dipper about the dangers of Gravity Falls, only for it to fall deaf on his wanderlust ears.

Mabel never complained though, even if the pages of the Journal had warned them that Centaurs were quick to spook and just as willing to flee. No, Mabel was down for the ride. She was his confident, his best friend, his other half. Dipper, sadly enough, kind of always imagined they’d be facing the world from womb to the grave. Ideas so childish and silly seemed to fall more along his sister’s visions of adulthood, but even Dipper, ever logical and the realist at sixteen, had silly little delusions of grandeur that involved Mabel and he fighting weird phenomenons to the bitter end.

With her dead there, chest concave, bits of skull and brain matter sticking to his vest, it hardly felt real to Dipper. The whole scene of her caught in the stampede looked unnatural and staged as it played over in his head, like the moments leading up to today were carefully orchestrated, tumbling down like dominoes to her death. A memory as normal as that day's breakfast felt like Dipper was looking in on a movie reel, watching some film that belonged to someone else, with corny jokes and sappy lines that would end after poorly scrapped together plot lines and a long, drawn out conclusion. No, Mabel’s death didn’t feel right, even after his shirt soaked straight through with her blood in a very final way.

As he shifted her broken body to look at her, to stare down at the canvas of Mabel’s face, tarnished by reds, blacks and blues, he realized that the world was draining of its color, sucking the shades of death from her corpse. Dipper thought he was hallucinating from shock, fear, or maybe even death, because all the hues of the earth were suddenly reduced to bleak whites, blacks and grays.

With a side-eyed glance, Dipper took notice to a whirlwind of leaves that had ceased moving midair. It was like all of existence had come to a standstill, and with the grey came a deafening, all consuming silence.

He found it odd that unlike the rest of his environment, he had remained colorful, his flannel stark against the ashen soil. He couldn’t dwell long on it though, because out from the thicket stepped out a man dressed so brightly that Dipper had to squint his teary eyes.

“Well, well, well!” His loud, flamboyant voice was all that filled the world devoid of color. “What do we _HERE_!?”

“SHOOTING-STARS, huh? Gotta rise and fall at some point, DON’T THEY?” The snort that resonated deep within his nose seemed hardly appropriate with Dipper’s current circumstances. "Laws of motion—Never REALLY cared for any type of laws myself, ESPECIALLY those based in reality! Just WHO put that NEWTON GUY in charge, anyway?!”

The intruder rounded on him, walking stick circling at his side like the blades of a windmill. His eyes, so unnaturally luminous in the grey backdrop put Dipper on high alert as he pulled Mabel closer. He felt instantly on edge around the shrill, mysterious figure.

“Seems a little premature though, DOESN’T IT? Sure, you humans don’t live very long, but SIXTEEN? _YEESH_ , kid, TOUGH BREAK! Her ticker had another sixty years worth of beats in it, AT THE VERY LEAST!”

When Dipper met the man’s eyes, he was torn by the chill that snagged itself down every bone in his spine and the breath stagnant in his lungs. He wasn’t sure if it was the shock or the delirium, but Dipper was overtaken by the newcomer’s appearance, quickly noticing the perfect contours of his face and the the long flutter of his lashes. In Gravity Falls, Dipper had seen a lot to gawk at, but even his mouth fell open in awe at the gentleman standing before him.

“Uh-oh!” Bill’s mirth curled the corners of his mouth into an exaggerated sneer. “Looks like SOMEONE doesn’t talk to strangers!”

“Names BILL CIPHER, kid,” he said, holding out a palm. With a flick of his wrist, his whole hand ignited in a shower of blue flames. “And it looks like I have AN OFFER that you SIMPLY CAN’T REFUSE!”

Ever the avid reader, Dipper had read enough myths and folklore to conjure images in his head of infernos, brimstone, and lakes of fire. Gravity Falls was a strange place after all, so perhaps it wasn’t too improbable that hidden in the dense forest was a portal that went straight to the fiery depths of Hell. Maybe he didn’t look the part, but the way this character held out his hand in a display of wicked, blue fire made Dipper feel like he was offered a deal from Beelzebub himself.

“Are,” Sure, Dipper had faced beasts that could change their form at will, conjure magic, and channel all type of inexplicable evils, but the dread he felt for this Bill Cipher figure seemed like primal instinct, a warning, to steer clear of at all costs. “Are you—“

“ _THE DEVIL_?!” Bill still smiled from ear to ear with a grin that no matter how hard he’d try, could never look the least bit honest. “You were gonna say THE DEVIL, weren’tcha PINE-TREE?!” Before Dipper could question the nickname, a swift flick of the symbol on his hat from Bill gave him his explanation.

“Nah, I’m not the Devil, WHICH IS LUCKY FOR YOU!  Deals with THE Devil? It ain’t worth THE FORMALITIES AND THE PAPERWORK—when you got a BIG NAME like that in the human world, you’re BOUND to have a HIGH OVERHEAD CHARGE. Just a WHOLE LOT OF TROUBLE, if you ask me!”

“Then who are you?” Dipper raised an eyebrow and tugged his sister closer, hand knotted in her hair so to keep her skull intact.

“I just told ya, DIDN’T I?!” Delicate, long fingers took Dipper by the chin and pulled him close till their lips nearly touched. “I’m BILL CIPHER! DREAM EXTRACTOR, NIGHTMARE IMPACTOR—and the guy who is going to SAVE YOUR DEAR MABEL’S SOUL!”

Bill lingered in his personal space till Dipper’s pulse was good and heavy in his ears, till he could trace the perfect lines in the cupid bow of Bill’s lips from one side to the the other. “You didn’t FORGET about your sister, DID YA DIPPER?”

The use of his name, which he positively did not mention, made his blood run cold. “Never.”

“Good, _GOOD_!” Said Bill as he circled, dropping to kneel beside him. For the first time since his arrival, his smile noticeably wilted into something more sombre. “I didn’t think so, Pine-Tree, NOT YOU! SOMEONE has to remember since she’s, _WELL_ ,” Bill’s eyes dropped to the corpse in his lap, which Dipper quickly noticed was growing colder in his arms.

“Oh, everyone else will remember too—AT FIRST! Sure, they’ll come to THE FUNERAL, they’ll give their CONDOLENCES AND APOLOGIES. But you know the old saying! WHAT’S DEAD IS _DEAD_! People will PICK UP and MOVE ON with their lives, and Shooting-Star will be NOTHING but FOND MEMORY FOR HER LOVED ONES!”

A quick snap of Bill’s finger produced a smokey image in blue of Dipper sitting in his lonesome at the funeral. All around him were dozens of people throwing disgusted and hateful glares in his direction in between deep periods of mourning.

“But you know what they won’t forget, Pine-Tree?” Bill raised both eyebrows, his smile quick to slink back onto his features. “ _YOU!_ ”

“They’ll remember _WHO_ she was with, _WHERE_ she was, _WHAT_ she was doing, and _WHO_ she doing it for,” Bill gave a click of his tongue, an obvious "tsk-tsk," as he looped an arm around Dipper’s shoulders. “They’ll remember who is at fault, have no doubt about that, Pine-Tree! People are always quick to point the blame!” For quick emphasis, the end of Bill’s index finger torched brightly before smoldering out.

“But HEY! That’s okay, YOU’RE still alive, right?!” Bill’s eyes were ablaze in the bleak grey as he elbowed Dipper amicably in the ribs. “Guess you were the _ALPHA TWIN_ all along, HUH?! YOU can MOVE ON and LIVE OUT YOUR DREAMS that weren’t CUT SHORT OH-SO PREMATURELY! That’s ONE POSITIVE in all this BRUTAL MESS!”

Dipper swallowed back a sob, running trembling fingers through Mabel’s hair, streaking blood and glitter in his wake. When Bill reached out and touched his hand, he openly flinched from the contact. Before he could protest, Bill was already pushing the heel of his hand against his knuckles, the force of his nudge making the pieces of Mabel’s skull scrap audibly together. Blue flames scorched down his arm, his fingers, and finally down to Mabel’s head, which miraculously fused back together with a supernatural glow.

“She HAD a’lotta spunk, that Shooting-Star,” Bill sighed as he pulled away to lament at the trees, leaving Dipper to gape at the marvel he just witnessed. “TRAGEDY, really! She was going to make SEQUINS COOL AGAIN with that BRAND, SPANKING-NEW CLOTHING LINE OF HER’S a few years down the line. I personally LOVE shiny things—WHAT A SHAME!”

“Oh my _God,_ ” he murmured as stared up at Bill in awe. Dipper had witness many bizarre, strange occurrences in Gravity Falls, but never once before had he seen a _miracle_. "How—how did you do that!?”

“The same way I’m gonna SAVE YOUR SISTER, Pine-Tree!” All it took for Bill was a twitch of his wrist before a cascade of confetti blew from out of his sleeve, sending little, cuts of paper clinging to Dipper still soaked in blood. “Once you STOP DOING THAT THING YOU DO when you OVERTHINK THINGS.”

After working with Grunkle Stan for so many years and watching the art of his scams, Dipper could see a case of fraud from miles away. He was always careful to avoid rip-offs, no matter how skillful the sale’s pitch, because Grunkle Stan had made a point to teach his great-neice and nephew on how to never fall victim to sales traps like those “boobs in Gravity Falls.”

Friends and family regularly compared Dipper’s free will to titanium: thought to be impenetrable, solid and strong, able to withstand even the most sound of arguments if the logic called for it, but under strain, even titanium had its weaknesses. When oxidized just right, titanium worn down and shredded was extremely volatile— _flammable_ even—when met with a hot enough flame.

“I can give you Mabel, Dipper,” Bill’s voice broke through his conflict when he kneeled beside him, resting on the tips of his toes as he casted more blue flames. “All it takes from you is a MERE HANDSHAKE!”

The fire of Bill’s offered hand conjured bleary memories of the two of them before Dipper’s eyes. Fights over a pacifier and shared evenings in the crib when the shadows evading their night light became too frightening. Their first day of school together, when Mabel took him by the hand and convinced him that he would love it. He was a book worm after all, and people would think they were coolest, bestest twins in the whole class (despite being the _only_ twins). The memory of their first night in the attic of the Mystery Shack was so vivid he could smell the musk of the wooden walls, and still hear Mabel whisper in bed that they would have the best summer of their lives. He thought back to highschool, where Mable was ever the social butterfly, how she was a shoe-in to win _Everybody’s Friend_ for the Senior Superlatives.

Fresh tears welled in Dipper’s eyes as he looked at the greys and blacks that marred Mabel’s face, trying his best not to snivel when his cheeks grew wet.

“You can pick YOUR FRIENDS but NOT YOUR FAMILY!” Bill’s flames, and thus Dipper’s visions, were wiped away with a smooth swipe of his fingers, reminding Dipper now with Mabel’s death that she was nothing more than sheer memories. “She WASN’T such bad pickings though, WAS SHE?”

Dipper could feel the glow of Bill’s eyes on him when he released Mable for the first time since her death. Resting her on the ground, he was careful when arranging her hair, her face, and her already misaligned limbs; in this world, her blood looked inky black against the pallor of her skin, creating dark, sticky patches on her normally vibrant sweater.

He had to tread lightly, even when fully aware that this Bill Cipher figure was in the advantage. Dipper straightened up and wiped his tears on the sleeve of his shirt, hoping that the years of agonizing puberty had paid off when he stood before Bill. He acted brave, pretending his knees weren’t shaking as hard as they were when he hardened his stare, channeling his great uncle in the midst of a negotiation.

“What’s the catch, _Bill_?”

Dipper thought of what he had sacrificed to know the knowledge he did, the trials he had to complete to find even a few pages of the aforementioned _Journal_ his family was all too reserved to speak of. Then he remembered Mabel was with him through it all, giving him newfound determination. “Because nothing in life is free, and I gotta say—you don’t really look like the giving type.”

When Bill stood and towered over him, Dipper was quickly reminded of his jarring presence in the all too strange forests of Gravity Falls. He didn’t seem to falter at Dipper’s vigilance; on the contrary, he looked excited, if not empowered, as he tapped his cane against the side of his shoe.

“HAHA! You’re FUNNY, kid!” Dipper had to tilt his head up to meet his smile. “I think I might even LIKE you!”

Bill snapped his finger and it echoed throughout the forest. An invisible force lifted Mabel a few feet from off the ground, making Dipper leap on his feet. There she floated between them in a faint, blue light, limbs stiff in her current condition, until Bill delicately took her by an arm.

“You SEE, Pine-Tree,” For the first time since his appearance, Bill’s expression fixed into something resembling sincerity as he twisted her arm from the elbow down. With a harsh _crack_ , he straightened it out into a more natural angle till it fell limp beside her. “Where I’M from? It’s fun, don’t get me wrong—manipulating TIME, slinking IN AND OUT OF PEOPLE’S CONSCIOUSNESS AND DREAMS—I keep myself occupied during my work hours but otherwise, WELL,” Bill twisted her other arm into place as he met Dipper with a modest look. “It gets SORTA lonely.”

“Of course, there are REBELLIOUS DEMONS TO VANQUISH and the OCCASIONAL GHOULISH UPRISING TO THWART, but those are far too few in between to keep a man like me occupied.”

Bill sighed as he hovered a hand along her ribcage, plucking his thumb upwards till every bone beneath it popped back into place.

“Don’t get me wrong, I _live_ for the MINDSCAPE! If it were up to me, our worlds, Pine-Tree? THEY’D BE ONE! The Mindscape—it’s how I’m able to work the little ‘MIRACLES’ that I can—but even a world where you can RIP THE FABRICS OF REALITY APART, PIECE BY PIECE, ONLY TO RECONSTRUCT THEM INTO SOMETHING MORE DEMENTED AND FUN—it needs a little, well—let’s say, a little REASON, a little SEMBLANCE  in it. Think of it as a breath of fresh, LOGICAL air, if you will.”

“Everyone needs a little REASONABLE FOIL to keep them in line,” Bill reclined an arm against Mabel’s body, his elbow levitating just above her rather than sinking into her sweater.

For the first time since they’d spoken, the slits of Bill’s eyes blew wide with interest before settling back to their natural state. It made Dipper’s stomach twist into knots; with the way his pupils shifted, much like an animal’s, it appeared Bill was as enraptured by Dipper as Dipper was in he. “And tell me, Pine-Tree—what human is more REASONABLE THAN YOU?”

“So I’d go to this place,” Dipper paused. “With you,” He looked around at the shades of grey with a few turns of his head. “It’s—it’s this? _This_ is the Mindscape?”

“ _YOUR_ mindscape, IF WE’RE GETTING INTO SPECIFICS,” Bill educated as he stood back, igniting Mabel’s legs in his signature blue fire till they bent back into place. “But yes! SHOCK and EXHAUSTION over this whole ordeal put you to sleep and allowed ME to slip into YOUR FRAGILE mind! Wasn’t so hard with you so worked up and all!” Bill admitted as he stepped right through Mabel like she were a ghost. It put a sinking feeling within Dipper when her middle seemed to evaporate around him as he walked through with ease.

“Look, Pines,” Bill waved at the air as he slipped an arm around Dipper’s waist, turning him to face his sister’s suspended body. “Nothing personal but I DON’T have all day for you to MULL THIS OVER and then some. I may not be Satan himself, but I have PLENTY of important people—HEDGE FUND MANAGERS on WALL STREET, POLITICIANS in WASHINGTON, the CEO OF VARIOUS CHILDREN’S ANIMATION NETWORKS—that are more than willing to make a deal with me! So if what I’m SELLING DOESN’T WORK FOR YOU,” Bill gave another snap of his fingers, and all of Mabel’s bones that he had magically reset snapped back into their place, till she was again nothing more than a mutilated corpse.

Instinctually, Dipper reached for her body as she began to shrink back into herself, and it was like he was reliving the stampede all over again. His mouth ran dry when all the grey splotches from blood and bruising faded back into the parlor of her face, reminding Dipper what would happen once the color of his world turned back on. Reality would set in, and Mabel’s death would be real, something corporeal— _final_.

“So HOW ‘BOUT IT, huh?” Bill stepped away, presenting a blazing hand in his direction with his usual beguiling smile.

Dipper liked to think he thought over all available avenues when it came to analyzing an issue. Logic came somewhere before or right after a quench to solve a mystery; it was even better when he could somehow merge the two, even in a small, bizarre town like Gravity Falls.

In between images of her sister being trampled to death, as he remembered reaching to pull her free from the massive hooves, Dipper tried to process what a world without Mabel would mean.

“Think about it, Pine-Tree,” was the soft whisper of Bill’s voice beside his ear, which continued to sound so oddly chipper during Dipper’s clear distress. “Wouldn’t Mabel DO THE SAME for _you_?”

Was Mabel perfect? When she would get caught up in her own devices, namely her infatuation with boys, no, yet Mabel loved Dipper unconditionally, and it showed in her words, her smile, and her hugs. In the end, even through the hectic train of thoughts that seemed to run through Mabel’s mind in an explosion of cute, colorful animals and glitter, Mabel was always there for Dipper when it counted the most.

“If I go to this Mindscape, will I ever be able to go home? Can I return at all?” Dipper’s brows lowered in worry. “Will—will I ever get to see Mabel again?”

“Hate to say it, kid, but once you’re in the MINDSCAPE, you’re IN. Takes a WHOLE LOT OF POWER to transition from the MINDSCAPE to the DIMENSIONAL world, _TRUST ME_! But as for _SEEIN’_ your sister?” With a flaming finger, Bill traced an “X” over the left side of his chest, while still offering a handshake with the other. “I’ll let ya _SEE_ Shooting-Star WHENEVER ya want!”

The idea of being stuck with Bill made him nervous but he supposed if it was anything like this, it wasn’t too bad. Besides, there were mentions of a paranormal uprising or two—considering Dipper’s interest in the outer-worldly, it may be exciting to learn about the monsters in this so called Mindscape.

“And you’ll keep Mabel safe, and make sure she’ll live a long, happy life?” Dipper narrowed his eyes skeptically as he took a cautious step closer.

“Oh, she’s going to be LIVING a LONG, _LONG_ TIME, if I have anything to do with it!” Bill gave a laugh under his breath before growing impatient. “Now how ‘bout it kid, TIME IS’A’WASTIN’! You SHAKIN’ ON THIS or NOT?”

A flaming blue hand was extended in his direction for a final time and Dipper told himself _it’s now or never_.

Once they locked hands, Bill pressed his thumb against the web of Dipper’s own and the flames rushed at him, scorching across his arm till until they consumed Dipper completely. There was smoke— _so much_ smoke—and his mind began to go hazy along with his eyesight.

The last thing Dipper could remember before he entered Bill’s realm was the way Mabel fell to the ground with an _oof_! She was very much alive, with the way she coughed and stuttered for air when she wiped the hair and glitter from her eyes. Dipper was about to slur out her name, hand reaching out for her, before everything turned black.

That was the story of how Dipper landed in the Mindscape under the rule of Bill Cipher.

It wasn’t all terrible—just mostly. Yes, Dipper could see Mabel whenever he wanted, when he sat waiting for Bill to return—but Dipper, could of course, never could _go_ see her. He spent many sad months mentally torturing himself on the word play, because of course, Bill held up his end of the bargain every time Dipper watched Mabel from a veil of blue flames.

The first few days at the Mindscape, Dipper didn’t do much seeing of Mabel at all. He was quick to learn about the atrocities of the dimension and who was the most monstrous contributor of them all. Despite looking like a very handsome one, he was quick to learn that Bill was no mere human.

Dipper learned that the _miracles_ Bill could perform weren’t much like miracles at all. Witnessing him stepping into the sleeping minds of individuals and wreaking havoc was far more horrifying than anything Dipper had experienced in even the darkest corners of Gravity Falls. Some of the deals that he witnessed Bill engage in were downright repugnant and vile, between humans and fellow demons alike.

Slowly but surely Dipper learned what Bill Cipher was known for in the demon community: an egotistical dream-demon bent on global domination, who was insane by even the highest level of demonic standards. It was no wonder he thought deals from the Devil were too much work—the Devil himself had banished all communication from Bill when he became too unruly for Lucifer himself.

Bill was locked away in the Mindscape as punishment for past crimes and after one successful deal, Dipper was too, to keep Bill company as long as Mabel lived. And if Bill’s promise remained, Mabel would be alive for a very, _very_ long time.

Dipper watched from a lense of blue fire as Mabel picked out her first university sweatshirt. Before scampering off to class, she waved to her new group of friends she met during orientation with a straight, brace-less smile. The likelihood of Dipper and Mabel going to the same college were probably slim, but Dipper liked to imagine that they would have always lived close, so visits would have been frequent. Hell, maybe they would go to the same school—maybe they would have gotten an apartment together, like they always talked about, at least till Mabel’s girlfriends got into the picture. Dipper never minded though, because Mabel was always sociable, and it was apparent with the amount of friends she had made within only the first few days of her freshman year.

On the nights when Bill’s chains felt too heavy and tight, Dipper wondered if the agony of Mabel losing Dipper to “mysterious circumstances” was less humane than leaving her dead. Again, one of the many kinks that Dipper failed to work out with his new slave driver was how Mabel would perceive his merge into the Mindscape. Bill swore to protect her physically, but mentally Mabel was left to fend and find the missing pieces of Dipper’s disappearance, with no luck.

Even on darker days, Dipper remembered he did the right thing—it had taken some time, and from what he saw, some therapy before Mabel could start to smile again. Friends helped, and so did staying closer to Gravity Falls, which explained her university of choice in Oregon.

Ultimately, it was where Dipper imagined he’d wind up too when picking a school of his own. The magnetic pull of Gravity Falls was too strong, even in the Mindscape. It was why he regularly sat in a fictionalized version of the forests he spent his childhood summers. When Bill wasn’t creeping in on him from all angles, which was all too able to do with multiple incantations of himself, Dipper usually took refuge in the grey scale trees, as far as his holds would allow him.

When feeling less adventurous of what the Mindscape held, Dipper sat on a log outside this dimension’s Mystery Shack when Bill didn’t need him at his beckon call. Feeling pathetic over waiting for Bill like some type of pet faded when he realized how lonely he felt when he didn’t have the demon around. Self-pitying boiled into self-loathing the more time he spent thinking about it, till the presence—he touch—of anyone became better than no touch at all, even when it came from the clammy hands of his captor.

Speaking of Bill, Dipper’s hair stood on the back of his neck which meant he was close, probably lurking in the trees somewhere. Even with his triangle symbol burned into Dipper’s back, that was as far as he let his senses run. Bill seemed to like it that way, having the ability to surprise, and Dipper couldn’t help but grumble remembering every time Bill managed to frighten him.

“Well it _DOES_ keep you on those PRETTY, LITTLE TOES, though, DOESN’T IT, Pine-Tree?” Two long arms wrapped around Dipper from behind as his aforementioned Master rested a chin on his shoulder, big, yellow eyes gleaming in the bleakness of the mindscape.

“It _sure_ does, Bill,” Dipper said with a blank drawl, so far past the semblance of fear for his own well-being when it came to the dream demon. “Where would I be if I didn’t have twisted, severed heads or dead kittens popping into my lap in a bloody heap on my more quiet days?”

“You’d be havin’ A LOT LESS FUN, IF YA ASK ME!” Dipper hardly flinched when he materialized before him in seconds flat, keeping still as Bill leaned forward to finger at the birthmark beneath his bangs. “DID MY DIPPIN’-DOTS MISS ME?”

Bill gave a flutter of his long lashes and Dipper hated how perfectly they framed his glowing eyes.

“Oh, I’d say I was counting the minutes but considering there's absolutely no concept of time in this dimension that would be damn near impossible.”

“UH-OH, _RED ALERT_!” Dipper sighed out loud as a blaring alarm sounded sightless in the darkness. He had grown to learn that Bill Cipher had a penchant for theatrics, using his ability to summon random objects from hammerspace like it was as natural as breathing. He also had a love for screaming, especially when he was in his more “cheerful” moods. “I THOUGHT I WAS TALKIN’ TO A PINES, NOT A PINE- _NEEDLE_ , I SEE _SOMEONE_ IS IN A MOOD!”

“Around you, Bill?” He knew he was being frigid, but Bill also took joy in his misery, so he liked to think it was a win-win for the pair of them. “Never.”

“Awwww, THAT’A’BOY!” Dipper reared his head back in attempt to escape a pinch to his cheek, though Bill continued grabbing for him as if his revulsion wasn’t clear. “And HERE I WAS, AFRAID a little PUNISHMENT WOULD BE IN ORDER!”

From the confines of wherever Bill could miraculously summon objects came one of his many “gifts.” This time it appeared to be a necklace, made out of what Dipper could guess was a few skulls on a string. Considering their size, they couldn’t belong to anything much bigger than a cat, like a racoon, a weasel or—

“RABBITS, Pine-Tree,” Bill corrected out loud as he fastened it along his neck. “They belong to RABBITS, and may I say it looks RATHER DASHING on your FLIMSY, ALL-TOO-EASILY-SNAPPABLE THROAT!”

“Thanks Bill,” Dipper mumbled, irritation clear in his tone. “I love when you remind me of my all too finite existence.”

Dipper was quick to regret his sore behavior once Bill’s interest was visibly peaked. Bill gave a fanged smile that seemed to consume his whole face in a comical way, the yellow of his eyes momentarily flashing black. When his head cocked to the side and locked into place, his neck made the sound like that of a rusty hinge.

“Y’know Pine-Tree,” Bill taped a long finger, tinged in blue, on the edge of Dipper’s nose. “Considering we spend ENDLESS HOURS OF TIME IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF A WORLD CAUGHT BETWEEN WAKEFULNESS AND SLEEP TOGETHER, we SURE have a bit of a COMMUNICATION PROBLEM!”

“I have this _SINKING SUSPICION_ that you’re hiding something from me,” With one, long stride, Bill stepped backwards, catching himself on a tree stump that shot out from the ground, filling the air with sound of shifting earth. “AND I KNOW JUST WHERE TO GET THE ANSWER!”

Much like a drive in movie, a screen of huge proportions began to unroll from the inverted skies, followed by a projector chirping to life in the Mindscape.

Images from Mabel’s day began to illuminate the screen in shades of navy and blue, showing her unpacking her luggage and decorating her bunk. Even before Bill’s inevitable mocking, Dipper had to smile; already, Mabel was full of homecoming spirit as she hung a flag of her school’s mascot on the wall beside her bed.

“Ohhhhh, _NOW_ I GET IT!” Without warning, Bill was sitting square beside him, legs knocking against Dipper’s from the tight quarters of the log. “It’s her first day of school, would you look at that!” Bill draped a gangly arm around his shoulder as he rubbed Dipper on the cheek. “And after a quick look into the ENDLESS DIMENSIONS OF THE MULTIVERSE, it very well could HAVE BEEN YOUR FIRST DAY, TOO!”

Despite Bill making a point to plop himself in his lap, Dipper was far too entranced by watching his sister move about on screen to notice the malicious glow in Bill’s eyes. Mabel was hanging a large picture frame on the wall in a cautious way that suggested it was incredibly precious to her. He recognized the frame immediately with how it glittered when hit by the sun. Glitter was always a dead giveaway to her home-brewed creations, and the colorful cotton balls and pipe cleaners made it easily apparent, too.

Dipper could pinpoint and give an explanation for every memory the photos held. There was one from that time when they were five, when Mabel and Dipper played tag that ended in a fall so hard Mabel needed to get stitches. Captured on a polaroid was the first time Waddles was introduced to their parents, trekking mud in corners of the house no one had ever thought accessable. There were photos from Gravity Falls—countless photos from Gravity Falls—from as early as twelve years old to as late as the year Dipper disappeared.

Dipper spotted pictures of Mabel completing milestones without him, like her in the front seat of her junker of a car, or the few pictures from prom of her with a boy who was visibly nervous. These memories were so small and few in between compared to the collection of photos that Mabel compiled of her brother and she, and Dipper felt himself laugh despite the tears blurring his vision.

It was moments like this where Dipper remembered it was worth selling his soul to Bill, because then Mabel would have never experienced so many “firsts” in her adulthood. It would have been unfair to deprive not her, but the world, of what she was capable of, and Dipper took comfort in that fact.

“TOUCHING,” Despite what Bill may have thought, even an all powerful, omniscient demon had faults, and two of them regularly made themselves known to his human slave. Apart from his difficulty with volume control, Bill was all too willing to show his true feelings in the tone of his voice if he let his emotions get the best of him, and considering how manic Bill could be, that was regularly.

He also had a flaw, a very human one, that was manifesting itself right before Dipper’s eyes when Bill’s sclera colored black: Bill Cipher had a massive ego to feed, and when his own psychotic jargon wasn’t substance enough, Dipper’s attention was something he was unlikely to share. “I’d ask WHY YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, but—BUSINESS  _IS_ BUSINESS—maybe we’re better off that way!”

The offense in his tone nearly made Dipper speak up but Bill was quick to make a point without words, just short of shoving Dipper from off the log they shared when he stood up haughtily from his seat. “And it SEEMS TO ME that a CERTAIN _INDENTURED SERVANT_ NEEDS TO BE REMINDED WHY HE’S HERE!”

Despite growing more and more familiar with Bill’s deranged ticks, Dipper felt trepidation once Bill’s eyes flashed from black to yellow to a frightening scarlet red, a tell-tale sign to Dipper that Bill Cipher was not in one of his better moods.

“Oh, no, _no_! I think I got it Bill,” Dipper mindfully backed away from his piercing glare, which seemed to be ripping him apart already, piece by piece. “ _Master_ Bill,” Dipper was quick to correct. “I think I got it loud and clear, actually!”

It had taken Dipper a day to learn that in the Mindscape, death was evadable, no matter how torturous and cruel Bill’s treatment could be, but _pain_ in this realm was all too real, and when Bill was feeling deranged enough, he was more than willing to dish him out his fair amount.

“So, uh, I’m just going to, you know—slip quietly into the Mystery Shack, let you cool off a tinge—”

Dipper’s whole body went rigid when a thick metal choker snapped shut around his neck, cracking every one of the rabbit skulls of his necklace into thousands of little pieces. Dipper recognized the collar as a power move from Bill, who like to brandish it when he felt Dipper was being a bit too mouthy to his liking.

“ _I DON’T THINK SO, PINE-TREE_ ,” The drop in octave to his voice told Dipper that Bill was past one of his moods—he was ready to squeeze the blood from out of Dipper who, with the way he could regenerate missing limbs and organs at the whims of his Master, was a well of plasma ripe for the tearing.

“Actually, ON THE CONTRARY! I think a SWIFT, RIGHTEOUS LESSON IS IN ORDER! It seems to me like we gotta sweep away THE COBWEBS FROM OUT OF YOUR SOFT, HUMAN BRAIN!”

A swift hold came over Dipper, agony igniting his every nerve as it forced him to his knees. With the collar in place, glowing blue like the flames on the tips of Bill’s fingers, Dipper was forced into painful submission till spots of color danced in front of his eyes. He learned early on from Bill that with the demon’s abilities, he was better off swallowing his pride and succumbing; when he stilled, the pain would cease, giving Dipper a brief sense of physical relief till Bill decided to release him.

“Can’t have you RUNNING OFF ON ME, PINE-TREE! Not that you’re so hard to find,” Bill assured, hooking the handle of his cane along Dipper’s collar in a bid to tug him closer. “You know the whole spiel—’YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE?’ Call it OVERUSED, but it’s A CLASSIC FOR A REASON!”

Underneath them, the ground erupted into a dull tremor, at first shaking lightly until the whole Mindscape started to quake. With the floor splitting, large mounds of dirt simultaneously lifted and sunk further from and into the earth, mimicking the shift of tectonic plates.

From out of the grass—like it was from Hell itself—came a massive hourglass, branded with the same stamp of Bill Cipher’s burned into Dipper’s back—a one-eyed triangle, which seemed to glare down at the two with the same mirth of Bill’s own eyes.

“Here is a LITTLE REFRESHER COURSE FOR YOU, Pine-Sap,” Bill eyes dulled back down to a canary yellow and he smiled crookedly with demented delight. “You see _THIS_ HOUR GLASS? Well, not only does it LOOK RATHER SPIFFY, it’s an ACCURATE REPRESENTATION of your CONTRACTUAL TIME here in the Mindscape!”

“Now listen closely Dipper, because this is IMPORTANT! Do you _SEE_ ALL THIS GLITTER? EVERY, LITTLE, MORSEL and SPECK?” When Dipper appeared too fearful to respond, Bill grew visibly impatient, clawing him by the hair with a vice like grip.

Despite his silence, Dipper was well aware what the glitter represented as it dripped slowly down the sides of the hourglass. Indeed, every tiny speckle of glitter was a depiction of the time he was bound to the Mindscape. From what Bill explained, a single sparkle represented every minute that Mabel would live, and with the top clearly fuller than the bottom, Dipper had a good few, long years to keep Bill Cipher company before he was released.

“GOTTA SAY, DIPPER, YOUR FUTURE’S LOOKIN’ BLEAK! I’D SAY THERE ARE AT LEAST 36 MILLION PIECES OF GLITTER STILL TO GO TILL WE SAY OUR _AU REVIORS_!”

The hourglass was big enough to tower over Dipper when collapsed in surrender but short enough for Bill to gracefully lean against, so he sat himself comfortably along the edge of it as he rapped the end of his cane against it’s glass.

“This sound _AT ALL_ FAMILIAR YET PINE-TREE?” Slipping a few fingers under the collar on his throat, Bill gestured locking it shut with a gleeful smile, and Dipper could hear the keyhole audibly click. Bill released him once he pretended to swallow down the imaginary key with a long-lashed wink.

“YOU HUMANS, I _SWEAR_! It’s AMAZING what a little DENIAL can make you SKIN-TUBES STUFF DEEP INTO THE DARKEST PITS OF YOUR MINDS!”

“WHELP!” Bill sighed cheerfully as he spread his legs and dug his heels into the ground from where he was propped up on top of the hourglass. “I think we’ve established GOOD AND PLENTY that you’re going to be here A WHILE,” With a casual toss, his walking stick disappeared into thin-air and into the nothingness of their universe. “Are you ready to COOPERATE and be a GOOD, LITTLE MEAT-SACK for me, PINSEY?”

He let out a meek “yes” before Bill relinquished his hold, allowing Dipper to tumble to the ground in gasp of relief. Despite his freshly gained freedom, Dipper knew better than to scamper up and stand, instead looking at Bill from the ground with round, pleading eyes.

“THAT’A BOY!” Bill’s hand, as cold as it always was, felt refreshing against the hot heat of Dipper’s face. “Y’know, Pine-Tree,” He leaned downward as he caressed his cheek, and it took everything within him not to keen into it. “You KNOW YOUR MASTER doesn’t ALWAYS want to hurt you, don’t you?”

Bill’s voice dropped into something more sultry and Dipper was hit with the same wave of confliction he always grappled with when Bill shifted into one of his more _giving_ moods. He felt revulsion for Bill, for his cruelty, his use of force, and his mockery—but when he pulled at the bottom of Dipper’s lip with the edge of his thumb, long and languid, an undeniable trickle of heat flushed its way through Dipper’s loins.

This is where Dipper felt truly torn. Yes, Bill could be inhumane, Bill could be mean—but Bill also touted himself as a kind Master when Dipper gave him what he wanted. At first Dipper felt disgust at the idea of Bill touching him, yet the alienation of others, from the people he loved and who loved him in return, seemed to slip away with a few well placed caresses of Bill’s hands and mouth.

“You know your MASTER wants to make you _feel_ GOOD when you’re GOOD to him, _hmmmm_?”

Dipper found that claim to be incredibly suspect with the way he was all too willing to treat him, but he held his peace knowing what a well-placated Bill meant. A Bill who was satisfied was a normally Hell-bent demon more willing to play nice. When he deemed Dipper well behaved enough, Bill was usually less likely to insult and maim—he may even occasionally be humorous and friendly, how fleeting that friendliness would be.

“Y-yes,” Dipper finally mustered up an answer under his breath, the flesh on his face hot again but for completely different reason.

“Yes, _WHAT_?” Subtly in his words wasn’t Bill’s forte, and even in the vacuum of the Mindscape, the volume of his voice was ear-shattering.

“Yes,” Dipper swallowed, determined to keep his stare from wavering off of Bill’s. “Master.”

“Excellent!” Bill assured as he fingered at the key-hole to Dipper’s leash. Leering, Bill motioned with his other hand for Dipper to slip closer, which he did on the edge of his knees. “You know, Pine-Tree—I sort of MISSED you today, GOTTA SAY.”

“Y-yeah?” Dipper let himself smile, even just a little. “In whose dream were you able to tear them into tiny, little pieces?”

Bill let out a laugh, maniacal as always, but a good sign for Dipper that he  was as placid as he could be.

“You know me TOO WELL, DIPPIN’ SAUCE! WHO’S READIN’ WHOSE MIND HERE, HUH?!”

Dipper nearly winced when Bill had hopped himself from off the top of the hour-glass, but relaxed once he continued to be pet pleasantly, Bill’s fingers gingerly pushing the bangs from his face to expose his birthmark. He remained still, knowing an order was approaching fast, as Bill slowly circled around him.

With the way Bill’s pupil, thin as a hair, rolled from side to side and along the rims of his eyes in a way that no human could dream capable, Dipper could tell he wasn’t just thinking, but seeing something past the scope of a mortal’s vision.

Bill once told him that before they were intimate, he liked to look into the future and see every possible outcome for their fuck: what position, how long it could last, and the face Dipper made when he came, depending on the dimension. Again, Dipper felt tortured by the lust that welled in his guts and how it made him think about them too, as far as his mind comprehended. All he had were memories and fantasies, which still left him feeling confused, but with an itch that couldn’t be scratched without the guidance of Bill.

Bill’s eyes flashed like lanterns in the darkness of Mindscape as his pupils finally stilled, letting his stare fall on Dipper with the utter of one word.

“STRIP.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not add smut to this, I'm not sure. I had intended to but wanted to get to my other prompts. Maybe I'll post what I've written as outtakes? We'll see!
> 
> Thanks again to [dadvans](http://dadvans.tumblr.com) for putting up with my screaming and crying as per usual (you'll probably see this at the end of every fucking chapter because he's my muse and the only way I can write anything decent).
> 
> Hope you guys liked it!


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